The Crimson Rose
by ExoticPeachBlossom
Summary: The stories you were once told as children of Ghosts and Goblins, of Witches and Vampyres of Werewolves and zombies for the things that go bump in the night are all true. One man stands alone against the rising Darkness, but what happens when he loses his heart to one who may hold the Key to not only saving the world from an unforeseen threat, but his own life as well. OOC Erik


The Crimson

Rose

Chapter 1

Nightfall

_AN: So this is a new story, and a Wicked/Phantom crossover, and I'm really hoping that this story will be as successful as "What Dreams May Come". I hope you all enjoy it and if there's enough reviews and shows of interest I'll post the next chapter_

_Summary_

_ The stories you were once told as children, of Ghosts and Goblins, of Witches and Vampyres, of Werewolves and zombies for the things that go bump in the night, really do go bump in the night. In the gentle sweep of nights silent serenade a lone figure stands against the Darkness threatening to swallow this world. A rogue, he and a small band of friends help protect the people, but what happens when he loses his heart to one who may hold the Key to not only saving the world from an unforeseen threat, but his own life as well. _

Erik Destler had always regarded himself as a solitary man, for he much enjoyed the sweet serenity of silence, then the mindless chatter from ones who feared the symphony, the peace that only silence could bring. After all, he found it far easier and less of a headache to work alone, then to worry about his teammates, who were always eager to stand beside the masked man.

Absently his hand rose towards his mask, his fingers lightly touching the smoothed surface. He could feel the tangible kiss of the cold night air seep into his gloves, reverberating off the slender porcelain of his mask.

The lights from the city below refracted off the hard edges of his mask, casting menacing shadows to splay across his hard features.

Sighing, he casts his eyes down to the bustling city streets below. He had been perched at the edge of this building since the sun had long since crested below the horizon, awaiting his target, and he was starting to lose his patience.

'The nerve of some Demon's, don't they know it's rude to keep a person waiting?' he had grumbled sometime between picking at his teeth and inspecting his weapons.

One of his weapons was his favorite, an ebony Blade that shimmered like twilight when the moons' rays fell upon it. The Blade thrummed with power and life, whenever it was covered in Demon blood, heightening the ecstasy, the thrill of the chase, and the exhilaration when an enemy of the Light, met its end at the end of his Blade.

Affectionately he ran the tips of his fingers along the sharpened edge of the ebony Blade, his eyes aglow with desire to feel the life drain away from yet another heathen of Darkness.

Erik couldn't quite remember how he had come into possession of the ebony Blade; which he had lovingly named Kitherian, after the Goddess of Death. And quite honestly he couldn't care. All he did know was that he and Kitherian were one, for the Blade sang to him and he alone, its arcane power was his to wield, and he did, with deadly precision.

It was as if he and the Blade were one, for it obeyed his every command, turning into whatever he desired at the heat of the moment.

Erik couldn't help but chuckle remembering the time he had ordered the blade to turn into a single shard; slim yet sharp as a Doctors scalpel. Illira; a woman whom he had teamed up with him during this one particular mission, had looked at the masked man as if he had gone stark raving mad.

Course, it didn't help that at the present moment, the two of them had been surrounded by Nisselia Demons; snake-like creatures with forked tongues, and spears for nails.

Laughing, he flung the ebony shard out towards one of the hissing reptiles and having hit the creature right between the eye, smirked, as one by one, the Nisselia Demon's exploded in a plume of ebony smoke and ash.

Illira hung back, her silver blue eyes never leaving Erik as he stepped over to the fallen, rubbles remains of the Demon's to reclaim his Blade, which had returned to normal the moment it had clattered to the ground, and the Demon had vanished into nothing more than dust particles, carried off by the wind.

"How did you do that!?" she stammered, baffled beyond belief how one single shard could have destroyed all those Nisselia Demons in one blow.

"Simple," he said with a shrug, his dark eyes gazed lovingly up at his Blade. A soft smile pulled on his lips, as his palm affectionately rubbed along the edge of the Kitherian, "Nisselia Demons are connected to each other, kill one, and you kill the whole swarm" he finished in a tone that indicated that it was common knowledge for any who stood against the Darkness.

Huffing, Illira simply turned around and crossed her arms and scowled. She hated it when he did that, made her feel incredibly small and insignificant.

Erik had laughed again and sheathed the Kitherian behind his back, as he stepped up behind Illira. Tenderly he wrapped his muscled arms around her waist and held her tight against his chest.

Illira couldn't help but shiver, feeling the tight ropes of muscles in his arms and chest flex and stiffen. And it took all her strength to not moan, for though Erik Destler was an incredibly arrogant man, he was also very handsome, and well built.

After the fight, he and Illira had gone to a local café which caters to 'Their kind'. Sitting alone in a booth, she sipped her tea; her silver blue eyes remained on Erik, staring wistfully out at the city beyond the thick paned glass which separated them.

"Have you ever wondered what we are exactly?" she asked hesitantly.

Erik sighed and shifted his gaze back to Illira.

"We have many names Lira…Shadowhunters, The Silent Knights, Assassins, Bounty Hunters, they're all the same. Our origins were long lost during the Burning of the Century, you know that"

Illira nodded silently back at Erik. Slowly her gaze lowers down to her tea cup, held protectively between her hands. She could see her own reflection staring back at her from the golden liquid and she sighed.

"But why are we here…I mean we have to have some other kind of purpose other than fighting things that people could only foresee in their nightmares"

"If there is, I don't want to know about them" answers Erik flatly, already tired of this conversation and company. His mind was wandering, seeking a more pleasurable means of escape from this boorish reality.

Illira sighed and finished her tea, having known that she had taken up to much of this man's time. Paying her bill she rises and slips her jacket over her shoulders.

"One day Erik. You will regret pushing the people you care about away" she spoke in a warning tone.

Erik simply huffed. His hand absently rose and blindly searched for his coffee cup. Hooking a finger around the handle, he brings the cup up to his lips and takes a long swig.

"Erik," sighs Illira, "one of these days, you'll find yourself completely alone, and yearning for the love that has now become unattainable" she warned

"Ha…when that day comes, Barileous will have learned to use silver wear and stop eating like a pig" Erik snorted.

"I'm serious Erik," she scowled down at him, "One of these days, you'll lose your heart to someone, and when you do, you'll do whatever you can to protect that person"

"Not bloody likely" he muttered beneath his breath.

Illira shook her head. Tying the straps to her jacket, she plops her hat on top of her head and casts one last look at the masked man.

"When will you learn that you don't have to walk this path alone?" she whispered more to herself than to him. With that, she turns and walks out.

That was the last time Erik had seen or worked with Illira again. He had made sure to stay in touch with the others of his circle regarding her well fair, but aside from that, he had not gone to seek her out.

Bored and losing his patience, Erik twirled Kitherian between his slender fingers as he leans languidly against the ringed pillars.

Elphaba Thropp stepped out into the cold February air and shivered. Her slender fingers reach up and curl around the edge of her jacket and with a puff of hot air, pull the lapels up over her neck.

She had just moved to New York City less than a month ago, and still had not gotten used to the frigid temperatures. Pushing her hands deep into her pockets, she stepped off the curb, turned and headed up the pathway. Her long raven hair billowed behind her as she maneuvered gracefully around the crowds of people walking past her.

New York was big, yet beautiful and overly crowded and noisy, a huge contrast to the small little town from which she had grown up in. There wasn't a huge population there, and neighbors were far and few between. You hardly ran into any body, lest you were on the road to the market place, then you may bump into one or two people you knew.

After she had graduated from College, she had moved to New York with the hope of fulfilling her dream of becoming an author. Yet so far, all her efforts were fruitless. Every publishing and newspaper company she went to turned her down.

The only reason why she hadn't packed up and left was due to her own stubbornness and the money she did get, working at a local restaurant not far from her small little apartment. The hours sucked and the pay wasn't the greatest, but it took care of the bills, and helped to put food on the table, so she really couldn't complain.

She had just finished up an interview with another publishing company in the hopes of landing a job reviewing musicals and such from around the city. The guy she had interviewed with didn't seem too thrilled with her resume, nor her educational background and by the end of the interview, had pretty much kissed this job goodbye. She wasn't going to keep her hopes up for this one.

Irritated and wanting to get out of the cold, she had neglected to watch where she was going and soon found herself lost. Stopping, she blinked. The street was dark, half lit by a flickering lamp high above. Water from melting snow dripped on the broken pavement, further making Elphaba uneasy.

Stepping back, she turned and screamed, for four sets of glowing ember eyes stared back at her, followed by rows after rows of sharp dagger like teeth. Stumbling back, she lost her footing and fell to the ground as the thing advanced towards her.

The thing in the darkness lunged towards Elphaba, its giant mouth open wide, as if intending to swallow her whole. Clenching her eyes, Elphaba absently brought her arms up to her face before the creature would be upon her.

The Demon lunged, its mouth agape, and its razor sharp teeth glistening in the light. A bellow of a roar ripped through its throat feeling something hard slam into its body.

A loud crash and Elphaba reluctantly opens her eyes. Gasping, she turns her head and screams watching a man wrestle with the Demon, screaming and thrashing on the ground, its razor sharp talons mere inches from stabbing the man in the face and shoulder.

Elphaba pushed herself away, her eyes glued to the strange man wrestling with the spider-like creature on the ground. A hiss and the Demon threw the man against the wall.

Spinning back around, the creature leans back and makes to lung towards Elphaba again. A scream and the creature disintegrate, spraying blood and entrails all over the walls, the street, and all over Elphaba as well.

Trembling, Elphaba lifted her wide eyes and gasped. The strange man stood before her, his ebony Blade impaled deep into the creatures skull. The whole front of his body was covered in blood, yet he didn't seem to notice, for his eyes remained locked on Elphaba.

Pulling the blade free, he swipes the Blade to the side, ridding it of the Demon's blood before sheathing it.

"Are you alright?" he asks gently

"I…I," stiffening, she shakes her head and glares back at the man, "What the hell was that thing!?" she screams

"First of all, I'm not deaf, so you don't have to scream; secondly that _thing _was a Scaraf Demon …now it's my turn. Are you alright?"

"I…I" stammers Elphaba in shock

Kneeling in front of Elphaba, Erik gently reaches out and cups his hand over her shoulder.

"Were you injured?" he asks gently.

For a moment, all Elphaba could do, could focus on, was the darkness of this man's hypnotic chocolate eyes, for they all but pulled her in deeper, and she was helpless to pull away.

Slowly, her body relaxed beneath his soft, haunting gaze. She didn't know why, but she felt like she knew this man, as if he had always been there in her life, seen but not seen, until now.

"Miss?" asks Erik again, a quirk of worry tinged in his voice.

Elphaba blinked. Slowly her slender hand rose and cupped his masked cheek.

"Who…are you?" she whispers

"Erik Destler…a Phantom" he whispers.

"Erik," whispers Elphaba, a ghost of a smile pulling on her lips, "your…cute" she manages to get out, before darkness consumes her.

Catching her, Erik holds Elphaba's unconscious body against his chest, a small smile pulled at the edge of his lips.

"Yeah…I get that a lot," he says beneath his breath. Tenderly, his hand rises and gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sleep mon ange…I'll make sure the Demon's stay away" he whispered softly as his hand rose and cupped her cheek.

In the moonlight, a figure stood tall in the moonlight, its dark sea green eyes locked on the masked man cradling Elphaba lovingly in his arms.

Narrowing her eyes, the figure grabbed the ends of her cloak, and turning, disappeared into the night.


End file.
